


Scripted (Int. Wrestling Room, Night)

by Vrunka



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hit the books, I dunno what happened, M/M, this was supposed to be body worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: Hugo gets what he wants and he knows how it goes.





	Scripted (Int. Wrestling Room, Night)

**Author's Note:**

> You can't tell me two characters both love wrestling and then not expect me to write this.

This is what he wants. Has wanted. Since he was a kid. That nebulous and gut wrenching yearning. Just grasping the edge of it, at twelve, standing with his dad looking up at the ring.

More defined as he got older. Weston called it a Type. The capitalization was implied by his tone.

And Craig.

Yeah, well, Craig is everyone's type isn't he? But also sort of especially Hugo's.

And especially now.

With his abs contracting, and his legs shifting, thigh muscles endless and bunching beneath Hugo's palm. And Hugo would expect to be sweating, but he isn't, miraculously, and he isn't a nervous as he feels like he should be.

"You're doing so--ungh fuck," Craig stutters. Hand in Hugo's hair, pulling on his bun. The hair-tie has come loose, strands hanging in Hugo's face. "Its illegal," Craig bites, "you're cheating."

Hugo is. Absolutely. He grins as best he can around Craig's cock. Swallows it down in agreement. His gag reflex twinges, beating it is a matter of willful relaxation. Until his nose is brushing just to the left of Craig's hipbone. He cocks his head, enjoying the feel of Craig's hairless skin. Smooth and taut across his abdomen.

Hugo wonders if his mustache tickles.

Craig's muscles quiver.

"You're teasing," he says. "Bro, bruh, Vega. Don't tease me."

The request is impossible to deny. Looking up at Craig's face. The red of his cheeks and the arches of his brows and the clear desire--desire on his face.

Desire.

Okay then.

Hugo hollows his cheeks. Closes his eyes to better focus on the task in mouth. Craig's cock leaking his tongue. Shifting at the wrong angle and sliding salty and fat against Hugo's soft palette.

This is what Hugo has always wanted.

Twelve years old with stars in his eyes and the strange leeching of heat down his spine.

Seventeen and letting Alex Wilde from the football team fuck his face. Then letting Ray Borges. Raph Nabokov.

And the desire. All the unsatisfied desires.

Craig grunts, biting his lip, grip tightening in Hugo's hair. Pulled fully free from the band now, curling around Craig's fingers.

"Oh shit," Craig says. "Hue...I'm..."

Hugo seals his lips tighter. Gives one final, satisfied suck.

And Craig is spilling down his throat. Gasping his name. Hips shaking beneath his palms. Craig's foot has found his thigh, his toes gripping at the material of Hugo's too tight jeans as he comes down.

Hugo knows what happens next.

Same as all those other times.

He slides his lips up and off Craig's dick, licks the head to coax the last little trickle of spend from him. Appreciating the way Craig shifts, flinching. Over stimulated.

Hugo's hands undo his own belt, sliding his fly down. His briefs get in the way, it takes some doing to get the waistband tucked beneath his balls. He doesn't waste a breath after that. Grips his own shaft, jerking it quickly.

Because desire only extends so far.

And Hugo knows the fucking drill.

"Wow," Craig says. Surprising him. Hugo's hand stills. Eyes flashing up to where Craig is now sitting up and watching him. Craig's tongue at the corner of his lip. Craig's shirt has fallen back down to cover his stomach.

A shame.

Craig's head tilts. He scratches at his thigh, slides his hand to his trainers and pulls them over his hips. And then...

And then extends that hand, slipping it under Hugo's t-shirt. Sliding down and down. Until it's at his hips and he's pulling Hugo's weight up and onto the couch.

"Let me, bro," Craig says. "You look like you're gonna break your wrist at that pace. Dislocate something."

"What?"

This isn't the script Hugo has written in his head. This isn't the way all the other times have gone. Craig grins, he brushes his hand across Hugo's brow.

His hand on Hugo's cock. Fingers gently removing and replacing Hugo's own. Pushing them out of the way to stroke him.

Hugo groans, undignified and Craig's answering chuckle fogs across his glasses.

"Been a while, huh?"

Been forever. Since the divorce.

"I--," Hugo begins to say before the thought is lost. Craig's pace picking up. Thumb swiping at the head, swirling in a lazy circle across the slit.

"It's okay," Craig says and absurdly Hugo believes him. Wants to believe him. Seeing stars. Twelve again with a spotlight in his eyes. "Just like that, Hue. I can take whatever you've got to give, man."

Whatever he's got.

Whatever he has got.

**Author's Note:**

> Come see my Tumblr as always. I'm probably way more interesting there.
> 
> @vrunkawrites


End file.
